Among My Stillness Was a Pounding Heart
by zakhaev14
Summary: BELONGS TO "DEFINITELYNOTNINA" AO3


Among My Stillness was a Pounding Heart

DefinitelyNotNina

Summary:

Bran's been carrying feelings for his friend for a while now, feelings he believes to be unrequited. Jojen finds out. Given that they're both hormonal teenage boys, why don't you take a guess at what happens next?

(this is my first time writing smut please be nice thanks)

Notes:

Hey everyone, I'm really sorry that I haven't updated at all since last summer. I feel really bad about this, but you know what, I think writing is going to be a summer break activity for me, so that's when you can expect updates.  
(yes, i will try to update that Rickon/Shireen fic but I'm not making any promises)

Without further ado, here's Bran and Jojen banging. LMAO.

Chapter 1: chapter 1

Chapter Text

Bran wasn't a little boy anymore. He knew to expect things, given that he had grown up in the light of his parents loving glances, overhearing Sansa and Jeyne giggling and daydreaming about their future husbands, or Theon boasting about which kitchen maid he'd slept with the previous night.

He knew that one day he would have to get married. Although in Bran's case it was always an afterthought of sorts- he'd become a knight of the north, and oh, that's right, he'd have a fair wife and children too. It was to be expected.

According to the silly songs that Sansa used to adore, the prince and the maiden laid eyes on each other and were spellbound within an instant. Of course, that wasn't the way things worked, Bran knew. He once heard his father say to Robb, "Real love will take time and patience."

So, it sort of made sense that Bran was falling for his friend after months of traveling and companionship. No, not Meera. Though he wished it were her. Whenever he watched the two siblings trudging along side by side, and his heart began to skip, he tried to look at Meera. He really did.

But though Meera was pretty enough, it couldn't compare to her brother's intense look of focus, the way he gently sunk his teeth into his lower lip when he was thinking. Jojen had a beautiful voice too, one that had Bran blushing and swooning like a girl on the inside. He loved the way the orange glow of the nightly fire would flicker off Jojen's honey-colored hair. He adored how observant and analytical the other boy was, it seemed as if every time Jojen opened his mouth, something poetic and slightly puzzling came out.

Bran was crushing on his friend, and he didn't like it one bit. It was supposed to be a girl- a lovely girl, with glossy blonde hair, skin like pearls, a musical giggle, and full tits like Theon talked about. Yes, girls were beautiful, no doubt. Bran did like girls, it was just that he liked Jojen better.

 _The dreams had never been like this. Usually they were vague, showed glimpses, and flashed blurry images at him. Bran had never had a dream like this._

 _Jojen was above him, honey-blonde hair falling into his eyes. They were both panting for air, and Bran noticed then that Jojen didn't have any clothes on, and neither did he. Wherever they were, it was warm and lit with fire. As the other boy moved above him, an overwhelming feeling of hot, sweet pleasure filled Bran's nerves, oh, it was almost unbearable, he was moaning helplessly. In a daze, he threw an arm around Jojen's neck and pulled him down, biting and sucking the soft flesh behind his ear. Jojen let out a wordless cry, and Bran came right then, gasping and arching his back-_

"My prince? Are you alright?" Bran opened his eyes. Jojen was above him again, but this time his features held anxiety instead of ecstasy. There was no firelight, their camp was as dark as it was cold.

"I- uh- I just-" Bran stuttered, racking his brain for an adequate explanation.

"Was it a dream?" Jojen asked, still not moving from where he hovered over Bran.

"Um- yes, yes it was." Bran confirmed, squirming into a sitting position while Jojen climbed off and settled to Bran's side. Bran froze. He could feel something between his legs, sticky and warm- _oh no._

"The dream," Jojen said, studying the grass with creased eyebrows, "Could you discern what the images were?"

"No!" Bran lied, far too quickly. Jojen frowned.

"I- I mean, not really. It was- it was showing the same thing the whole time, but it was blurry and I couldn't hear."

"If it was one of the less explicit dreams, then what was it that was giving you such a fright?"

"Fright?"

"Yes, you were thrashing about and moaning like you were in pain."

"I wasn't-" he cleared his throat, "I wasn't scared. I'm not a baby."

"Are you sure you don't know what you were seeing?"

"Well, I- I-" he blushed, "I don't wish to talk about it just now."

"Oh." Jojen sounded sympathetic, " _That_ kind of dream then?"

Bran nearly choked. "Um. I suppose so, yes."

"My apologies, my prince. It's alright, you know. Most boys find themselves enamoured by the charms of women around our age."

"Charms of women?"

"I've seen you looking, Bran."

 _Oh hell._ "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude-"

"Meera's the only girl you've seen for months, it only makes sense."

A huge wave of relief swept through him. "Oh? Oh, right. Yes. Meera. Very pretty.."  
Jojen turned to him with a playful smirk and a sparkle in his eyes, the very expression that always managed to pull at something in Bran's poor heart. "I'm sure that if all had been at peace, my father might have agreed to arrange a wedding between yourself and Meera when you were grown."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Our fathers were the closest of allies."

"I wouldn't mind that, I don't think. Meera's nice, and I would get to see you-"

"You would get to see me?"

Bran found himself blushing again. Oh, he was sure Jojen would figure it out. It was inevitable.

"Who do you think you might have married then?" he asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from anything to do with Bran's romantic interests.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps your sister Arya, or Lyanna Mormont, or one of your Tully cousins."

"Arya? She would've hated to get married."

Jojen laughed softly, "Then that would've made two of us in an unhappy marriage."

"You don't like Arya?"

"I'm not really interested in girls," Jojen shrugged, "Never was."

Bran's eyes widened. "You… you like boys then?"

Jojen looked at him, "Do you?"

Bran's heart pounded. He stammered, hoping Jojen couldn't see just how red his cheeks were in the black of the night, "I'd never- no, I... boys love girls, and girls love boys, and I wouldn't ever think of-"

"Bran, there's nothing wrong with it."

"But- what about- I always thought-"

"Girls are quite lovely, yes. But sometimes a boy will come along and realize that he can't help the attraction to other boys, and that's alright."

Bran gulped. "My dream… um…"

"It was never my sister you were looking at, were you?"

"No." He answered sheepishly.

"Would you like me to kiss you now? Would that alright, my prince?"

Bran's blush deepened. Kisses sounded lovely. "B-But, what about Meera and Hodor?"

"They're asleep, aren't they?"

"Yes."

And with that, Jojen leaned forward once again and kissed Bran full on the mouth. His lips were dry from the winds, but the kiss felt warm nonetheless. One of Jojen's hands was behind Bran's head, cradling him, holding him close.

It was as far from wild and heated as kisses could get, but no less passionate and intense. Their lips locked and unlocked, Bran poked his tongue out, and Jojen brought his to meet him. Bran's lack of experience had to be obvious, but Jojen didn't seem to mind.

When they finally broke apart, Jojen's eyes were dark and hungry, his lips full and pink.

"Would you like me to touch you, my prince?"

Bran stammered, "W- wait, you mean like…"

"Would you like me to?"

This was wrong, wasn't it? This was how Bran was supposed to kiss his bride on their wedding night, boys were never meant to kiss each other. Yet he wanted it so much.

" _Yes._ "

"Alright then." Jojen sat back and motioned for Bran to lay down. His breath was already starting to hitch with anticipation.

"Roll on your side, my prince," Jojen urged gently.

Bran was confused, but did as he asked. It made sense to him when the other boy tucked himself behind Bran, his chest to Bran's back. As Jojen began to place sweet, pecking kisses along Bran's neck, he brought an arm forward to take Bran's hand. Nice and easy. It wasn't so bad, not so… scandalizing, Bran thought, though his heart skipped unevenly and he knew his skin must have been boiling hot to the touch.

He didn't even notice his belt had been undone until a hand slid up his shirt. He jolted with surprise.

"Would you like me to stop?" Jojen's lips brushed over the shell of Bran's ear when he spoke. Bran quivered.

"No!" Bran coughed awkwardly, "No, no. It's alright. Keep going."

Jojen hummed softly and began running his hand all over Bran's skin. The quick, innocent kisses became open mouthed and hot. Bran's eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting to let out shallow pants and gasps whenever Jojen's palm dragged over his nipples.

Gods, his trousers were beginning to grow tight and hot with his excitement- for a moment a horrible flash of doubt sparked within Bran. What if Jojen didn't mean to go so far as to touch him _there_? What if Bran's... reactions disgusted the older boy? What if-

"May I?" Jojen asked in a low whisper. His fingers were poised above the top of Bran's trousers.

"Oh? Uh- yes. Yes, please."

"If you don't want to, we don't have to-"

"I want it."

Jojen smiled against Bran's neck, and slipped a hand past the laces of his trousers. The second the other boy took his cock in a gentle stroke, Bran let out a high pitched squeak.

"Shhh, my prince. The others are sleeping." Bran nodded, but continued to pant and whimper as Jojen pumped his aching cock. He was powerless to hold it back, and Bran was already focusing on not finishing too quickly.

That was when Jojen swiveled his palm over Bran's sensitive tip, slapping his other hand over the younger boy's mouth just in time to muffle what would have been a rather embarrassing mewl. God, fuck, Jojen was good at this. Bran was sure that if he had control over all of his body, his toes would be curling and his knees would be spasming. Every once in awhile, Jojen would reach further down to rub and squeeze Bran's balls, making the boy gasp and jerk, only to come back up, stroking his cock and making him squirm.

Within minutes, Bran was shivering in Jojen's embrace, whining with the pressure of an approaching orgasm. He tore the hand off his mouth in a desperate haze.

" _Jojen_ ," he gasped, "Kiss me, Jojen-"

Jojen's lips were on his before he even finished his plea. Bran melted into the kiss, seven hells, this felt good. All it took was a playful bite from the older boy and- OH, _oh yes._

Chapter 2: chapter 2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Every night since, after the fire had been put out and everyone laid down to rest, Bran would turn over on one side, pretending to sleep. Jojen would tuck in behind him, and put one hand over Bran's mouth while the other slipped between his legs. The older boy's touches were gentle and precise, and it never took long for Bran to come.

Sometimes though, Jojen would surprise him. Truly shocking, sinful surprises, like the time Jojen's fingers had wandered back behind Bran's balls and ignited a hidden sweet spot. Or, the time when Jojen had pushed him over onto his back and taken Bran's cock into his mouth- Bran could hardly even recall the memory without his cheeks flaming up.

He often wondered where and how Jojen learned to do such things. When asked about it, Jojen only shrugged and said something about a collection of rather infamous novels which he'd found hidden in his mother's wardrobe.

"Would… would people truly write about… you know?"

Jojen raised his eyebrows, "Why not?"

"Well," Bran made a face, "Boys aren't expected to, to uh… do things with each other, much less appear in novels doing… things with each other."

Jojen seemed amused. "You talk about such things as if you haven't already experienced most of them for yourself."

The young warg choked on the air, "I know, but it's different actually talking about it, you know? Oh, and what's more," he continued, "I haven't exactly 'done' most of those things, it's always been you 'doing it' to me." Bran squared his shoulders as if challenging Jojen. "In fact, I'd like to do it to you for a change. If you weren't feeling too shy of course."

"Too shy for what, now?"

Bran whipped around to find a very confused Meera standing there with several dead rabbits tucked under one arm. Any and all sense of boldness that he'd accumulated while he'd been challenging Jojen was instantly scattered to the wind.

"I was just- we were- um-"

"The prince was offering to be the one to initiate the joint greendreams this time. He feels ready."

Thank the gods for Jojen's talented mouth. At the mention of greensight, Meera smiled and settled down to skin the rabbits. Though Meera certainly respected such abilities, she never could add much to the conversation, and usually left Bran and Jojen to it.

Jojen turned back to Bran with feigned innocence, "You were saying something about too shy, were you?"

"Oh, shut up."

Notes:

welp i hope that wasn't terrible

Chapter 3: chapter 3

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It was different this time the stars lit up the sky one by one, as Bran watched Hodor stamp out the embers of their camp fire. His breath hitched unevenly, his heart felt like a lump of sand that had gotten stuck in his windpipe.

The whole evening, Bran found it impossible to make eye contact with Jojen for more than a half second before Jojen bit his lip knowingly and the young prince had to turn away. If the power to speed time was another one of Bran's gifts, he would have utilized that gift hours ago.

At last, when the little noise that their camp produced faded to silence, Bran turned his head to find Jojen. The other boy's eyes shone in the dark as they stared back.

"Jojen?"

Apparently, that was all Bran needed to say. Jojen made his way across what little ground seperated them and settled down, propped up on his elbows.

He glanced at Bran expectantly, "I'm all yours, my prince."

With that, Bran felt himself swept up in a sudden surge of affection. He pulled the other boy on top of him and pressed an urgent kiss to Jojen's lips. He was greeted with equal enthusiasm on Jojen's end- his hands found Bran's, fingers laced together, kisses migrated from lips to throats, and Bran found himself pinned to the ground under Jojen's attack, gods, he was so _hard_ -

"Jojen?" he panted.

A nest of blonde curls emerged from beneath Bran's jawline. "Yes?"

"I'm supposed to be doing stuff to you, remember?"

"I remember. My apologies, my prince."

Bran gave Jojen a hard shove. The older boy toppled onto his back, laughing with pleasant surprise as Bran crawled between his scrawny legs. "And don't call me 'my prince'. My name is Bran."

"Yes, Bran." Jojen breathed. He tilted his head back and bared the long, pale arc of his neck. Bran's mouth watered. Now he could certainly understand why Jojen liked being the aggressor so much. There was such thrill in the way Jojen clawed weakly at Bran's back, in the lewd moan that flew from his parted lips as the Stark prince used his teeth- biting down on the older boy's throat and sucking hard.

" _Shhh!_ "

"Yes Bran, I'm sorry."

"You'd better try harder, _Lord Reed._ " Jojen was about to give an equally cocky reply, but the words escaped him the moment Bran shoved that stupid green cape off his shoulders and began unlacing the front of his tunic.

Bran practically tore the fabric from his lover's body, leaving the soft, white expanse of Jojen's body open to the night sky. He allowed his eyes to feast on the sight before him. Jojen Reed: such a well spoken greenseer, heir to Greywater Watch, wise with the knowledge of a hundred measters, sprawled out on the ground before him, flushed and panting. Bran snarled.

"Gods," Jojen groaned, watching while Bran went at one of his rosy nipples, sucking it between his lips, sending arcs of pleasure clear down to Jojen's toes.

Having Jojen under his teeth reminded Bran so much of seeing the world through Summer's eyes. He was the wolf, and the quivering boy beneath him was his prey.

" _You're mine._ " he hissed as he firmly squeezed at Jojen's arousal.

" _All yours, yes,_ " Jojen moaned, head spinning from the dizzying friction of Bran's hand.

Bran unlaced Jojen's smallclothes, and a bolt of fear runs through the older boy. He's so high strung, and he knows that once he recieves a true touch, the stimulation might just be enough to make him faint or scream, he can't decide which one is worse.

 _Oh, he's gorgeous._ Bran had never seen anything that could possibly measure up to the sight of Jojen's blissed out expression; his elegant eyelashes gently gracing over his cheekbones; the way his mouth hung open, pink tongue poking out between pinker lips; the arch of his back, the sheen of sweat over his arms and stomach; at this point, Jojen wasn't wearing anything but a pair of rugged trousers, which had been undone to reveal his dripping cock.

Jojen wasn't exactly big by any means, not that Bran had expected him to be what with how thin and lanky the rest of his body was. Yet just like the rest of his body, Jojen's manhood practically glowed with beauty.

Dark glossy eyes snapped open the moment Bran took the base of Jojen's pretty cock in a punnishing choke-hold.

"Seven hells, you're so hard." Jojen honest-to-god _squealed_ the moment Bran licked a searing path all the way up the underside of his length.

" _Brandon Stark!_ " he gasped, shocked at how bold the younger boy had become.

" _Jojen Reed!_ " Bran japed right back at him. He wasted no time getting his mouth back on his lover, hands harshly pinning Jojen's hips down, lips sucking down hard, moaning at the taste.

Jojen thrashed against the ground, desperately keeping both hands clasped over his mouth. He could've sworn his eyes rolled into the back of his head when his lover moaned around his aching cock, his toes curled, legs splaying open wider, and he spilled down Bran's throat before he knew what was happening.  
The sound of Bran coughing and sputtering reached his ears. "I'm sorry," he gasped, "Should've warned you."

"I swallowed it."

"You don't have to, you could've spat it out"

"Didn't want to"

Jojen was still panting with exhaustion, his head dropped gracelessly back onto the hard dirt, but he was still determined to make it up to Bran.

"Come here, I can take care of you as well if you'd like."

There was a pause.

"Bran?"

"I, um... I already finished."

"What?"

"In my trousers. While I was... you know."

Jojen groaned in spite of himself. "Seven hells."

Notes:

hey, all things considered i'm actually doing pretty well with updating consistently. I have most of the rest of it written, so now it's time to go back and revise and take out the corny stuff. (who am i kidding, this is corny as hell anyway haha)

on a different note, DID YOU SEE EPISODE 9 ON SUNDAY? OH MAN, I AM LOSING MY MIND. WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE.

Chapter 4: chapter 4

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They were fortunate enough to stumble upon a nice clear stream the following week. Meera whooped with delight and bounded down the rocks to refill their water containers and splash herself in the face. It had been a disgracefully long time since any of them had a proper bath, so Meera insisted that everyone get in, even Jojen, who complained about how cold it was.

"Meera, we'll all catch tuberculosis. And possibly die. We're better off taking turns using a bucket over here, where we have a bit of a shield against the wind."

His sister laughed, and lifted her face to the sunshine. "There is no wind, Jojen. Look! It's a beautiful day."

"There might not be any wind just now, but you don't know what it will be like when we decide to get out."

Meera frowned at him. "Have either of you foreseen this? Our untimely deaths thanks to some fancy disease?"

Jojen huffed. "No, I haven't, but you don't need greensight for that."

"Bran, have you foreseen it?"

Bran giggled, "No."

"There you have it. Furthermore, I might not have the greensight, but what I do know that if you don't strip right here, and take a leap into the damn water, you'll die of... of... prude-itis fever. So there."

"Prude-itis fever? Really?" Jojen scoffed.

"Oh, yes. That's what happens to you if you don't leave the embrace of comfort ever, and then these tiny worms start to grow in your brains, and they take over your mind! Your skin will turn yellow, and your blood with go black, and you know you're a goner when the worms grow a stick up your arse!"

"Oh, god."

"Oh god, indeed, my prince! Now I don't know about you, baby brother, but I'm jumping in! Bran, you should order him to follow me!"

"Meera, it isn't proper for our lord to see us undressed," Jojen tried, "And you're a lady."

Meera tossed her head back burst out laughing like that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "Isn't- proper!" She wheezed. Bran and Jojen looked at each other with confusion.

"It's not as if- you haven't already seen enough of each other!" Meera was practically convulsing with giggles at this point. "And I don't care if either of you see me- you're my brother, Jojen, and I'm quite sure Bran isn't exactly interested in ladies either."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Meera." Jojen snapped, "Stop being ridiculous."

"Oh, did you two think you were being subtle?" An awkward silence settled over them as Jojen risked a glance at Bran, who was stuck gaping at Meera like a fish (a very red fish), and Meera shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"You boys are far too randy for your own good. Now come on, let's get clean."

Hodor put Bran down in a fairly secluded corner of the stream at Bran's command before ambling off. Bran watched his scrawny, pale legs floating uselessly in the water.

"Are you needing any help, my prince?" Bran jumped. He smiled warmly, seeing it was only Jojen.

"I'm doing fine, thank you," Bran answered, trying not to feel embarrassed at their lack of clothes. Sure, the two of them had done plenty of kissing and touching and making each other come, but despite what Meera had suggested, it was always dark, with blankets involved, mostly dressed save for their undone belts.

Bran awkwardly scooted to the right to make room for Jojen, only to get caught in a current and start floating away. Thankfully, Jojen caught him before he got too far.

"Are you sure you don't need any he- mmph!" Bran lunged at his lover and caught him in a deep kiss. The two quickly got carried away in the chill of the water, sliding their hands over each other, not so much kissing as they were sharing breath.

"Come here," Jojen gasped, pulling Bran into his lap, his chest against the prince's back. Bran shivered with arousal when Jojen pulled his legs apart. It was honestly a bit amusing to think of how Bran could either be a blushing virgin or a hungry, ruthless wolf depending on the day. Today for instance, he seemed to be leaning towards the former.

"Is this okay?" Jojen asked, massaging Bran's prick into full hardness.

"Y-yes." Bran found himself silently pleading the other boy to touch him farther back, and let out a delighted moan when the wish was granted. Suddenly, one of Jojen's fingers was wandering back to Bran's bum. That was okay, he supposed. Jojen probably knew what he was doing. He always did.  
The finger traced a gentle circle over his opening, and Bran yelped.

"I'm sorry, my prince, I should've asked-" Jojen apologised, quickly removing his hand from between Bran's legs.

"No- you can keep going!" he explained, blushing heavily. "I sort of liked it."

Jojen fixed one hand under Bran's left knee and pulled it up to make room. The younger boy hummed and leaned back against his lover. This time when Jojen touched him, Bran was ready. The older boy teased the rim with just his pointer finger, stroking and pushing. Bran squirmed and gasped. It felt... interesting enough. Surprisingly pleasant.

"More, please," His lover obeyed his request and nudged his finger inside, making Bran whimper at the sensation of being stretched open. Jojen slowly began to pump his finger in and out, steady and gentle.

"O-Ohhh…" Bran sighed, wishing he could spread his legs wider. He leaned his head back onto the older boy's shoulder, allowing his eyes to shut and his lips to part.

"Feels good?"

"It's alright."

"Only alright?" Jojen laughed.

"Shut up, j-just keep going," Bran stammered. Contrary to what he'd just told Jojen, taking a finger up his arse was beginning to feel very good indeed.

"Of course, my prince,"

Bran frowned, "I thought I told you not to call me- OH, YES! Right there!" Jojen was curling his finger and rubbing it against something that flooded Bran's vision with stars. He panicked- his hands splashed around frantically in the water before he dug his fingers into Jojen's forearm, giving him something to cling to. The finger resumed sliding in and out again, teasing Bran's weak spot on every stroke.

"Ohhh, please! Gods, Jojen, please," he begged, though he hadn't the faintest idea what he was pleading for. He whined desperately, gripping Jojen's arm for dear life as the fingertip pushed against the little knot of nerves and rubbed in tight, agonizing circles.

The coil of tension in Bran's tummy wound tighter and hotter, he could hardly take it. Every single twist of Jojen's finger, no matter how small, was sending bolts of pleasure to Bran's cock, which at this point was so swollen it hurt.

Even though Meera already knew, Bran was worried about someone finding them. He was being so noisy, but it felt so _good_. Seven hells, how was it that Jojen only needed one finger to reduce him to a moaning mess?

"Uhngg! Please Jojen, don't stop," he babbled helplessly, "Jojen- mercy!"

"You're nearly there my prince," Jojen soothed him, "Do you need me to touch you?"

" _Yes,_ " Bran breathed. He released a relieved sob when Jojen closed his other hand around his needy cock. Jojen pumped him hard, once, twice, Bran felt as if his orgasm was being forcefully torn out of him, making him cry with ecstacy.

Jojen held him close and pressed sweet kisses to Bran's neck while he quivered through the aftershocks.

"Shhh, I'm sorry my prince, don't cry, I'm here."

"Oh, gods." Bran sobbed.

"Did I hurt you, my prince? I'm so sorry!"

"No, I'm alright," he murmered, "You're far too good at that."

Jojen sighed, "Oh, thank the gods."

Bran was absolutely drained and quite content with lying half conscious in Jojen's lap while the other boy frotted against him.  
Jojen rocked Bran's pliant body back and forth against his throbbing cock, the water making everything so slick and simple. As he listened to Jojen panting and gasping through the occassional moan, Bran allowed himself to wonder about what it be like if he allowed Jojen to… to fuck his arse.

He blushed at the thought, but payed attention to the sensation of his lover's stiff cock, and what if- oh- what if Jojen managed to fuck against that little button inside Bran- the very thought made him squirm.

Notes:

...so that was a thing.  
You know what i hate about writing m/m or f/f is that you always have to refer to people using their names because they use the same pronouns and it just gets so repetitive and then you have to start using stuff like "the younger boy" or "the blonde" ugh this is so awkward.

(oh hey, feel free to give me feedback, or if you notice something in the story that's particularly corny, feel free to let me know because holy fuck, i know i could use some improvement.)

Chapter 5: chapter 5

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Jojen?" he asked one night under the blanket of darkness.

"Yes, my prince?"

Bran gulped. "Um. I have a question about how boys... erm- with each other-"

"Oh that's perfectly alright. What was your question then?"

"When boys uh- when they do it with each other, do they ever, you know… fuck properly?" Bran cringed privately at his choice of wording.

"Of course," Jojen replied casually, "I've heard that the Dornish do it all the time. They tend to be less conservative about these kinds of matters."

"And have you heard much about… exactly how one would go about doing such a thing?" Bran furiously fought the rising blush in his cheeks as he thought of Jojen pinning him belly-down into the furs and taking him in the arse- _ohhh_ \- Summer mewled pitifully from the other side of the burnt-out fire and Jojen raised an eyebrow.

"First of all," the young seer answered slowly, "One would need sufficient lubrication, usually found in the form of oil. Otherwise the act would be most painful for both boys involved." Bran knew they kept a supply of oil which they used in the lanterns. Good.

He chewed on his lip. "Go on."

"Additionally, the boy wishing to have the other inside him," Jojen paused and looked deep into his flustered companion's eyes, "the one wishing to be _fucked_ , as some would put it, would need to be thoroughly stretched open on two, or even three fingers, so I've heard."

Jojen's already gorgeous voice was becoming progressively more and more like a husky purr as he spoke. "It is the opinion of some, that such an act is the most intimate state a man could ever share with someone else, given that it requires a strong sense of trust along with selflessness." Bran was sure that Jojen could hear his shallow breaths and feel how aroused this talk was getting him, but if he did, he elected to ignore it for now.

"Aside from that," Jojen continued, "I've heard that when done right, being _properly fucked in the arse_ can be overwhelmingly pleasurable for both boys." The older boy gave a sly smirk, and Bran couldn't stop the tiny whimper before it tumbled from his wanting lips.

"Pray tell, my prince. Would you prefer to fuck me, or should I fuck you?"

Bran's eyes widened comically. "Shh! Meera's right there!"

"You didn't care about that so much a few minutes ago."

"Yes, but we hadn't quite gotten to using words like that just yet!"

"Which words? Fuck?"

"...Yes."

"First of all, in this context, the word is being used for its literal meaning, so there's little to be upset about. Secondly, you yourself used the word fuck in the first sentence of this conversation, remember?" Oh, that's right. He had, hadn't he?

"Besides, look at how my sister's mouth is slightly open. I know for a fact that she only does that when she's truly sleeping. Are you going to answer the question, my prince?"

"The question?"

"Would you prefer to fuck me, or should I fuck you?"

"Oh. Um."

Jojen cocked an eyebrow. The sexy little shit.

"You can't expect me to answer if you keep staring at me like that!"

"Well by all means," Jojen laughed, and rolled over to face the big snoring lump that was Hodor. "I'm listening."

All he had to do was say it. It wasn't that difficult. _Come on Brandon, it's only six words._ Jojen had always been so accommodating of Bran's desires, and of the awkwardness with which the young prince expressed them. Nothing would change that now, would it?

 _Oh, fuck it._ Bran gathered his courage. "I want... you... to fuck me." It came out as a meek whisper, so painfully shy.

He tried again. "I want you to fuck me, Jojen."

In the dark, the outline of the older boy's body tensed for a moment before shifting minimally.

"Oh." Jojen gasped softly. The older boy was being uncharacteristically mute. _He's gotten hard_ , Bran realized.

The realization of how much this affected Jojen hit Bran with a sudden rush of wickedness. "Oh, I'm sorry," he teased in an innocent tone, "Does thinking about it get you all hot under the collar?"

"Bran!" Jojen hissed. The urgency in his voice immediately reminded Bran of the first night he had touched Jojen. Such a thought only egged him on.

"Do you think about it when you're alone?" His voice was low, barely audible, yet he knew Jojen could hear him just fine. "After you make me come, after the rest of us are asleep?" That was definitely a hitch in Jojen's breathing.

Bran continued, "How do you imagine it? I'll tell you the way I imagine it, I like to think you would come onto me in the night like you always do, except this time it's a bit rushed, a bit brutal if I'm going to be honest. Anyway, you have me pushed down on my belly against one of the furs, all of you is up against my back, and you start sucking on my neck."

Bran allowed himself to moan softly then, to see if it would get a rise out of Jojen. Judging by the echoing whine, Bran would say it was working. "I like it a lot when you kiss me there, by the way. I imagine you attacking me, stripping all our clothes off, so we can do it properly- like that day in the water, do you remember that?"

"I remember," Jojen whispered, his voice strained, "Keep talking, please." Bran couldn't see much of Jojen in the night, but from the way his elbow was positioned, Bran could guess he was playing with himself.

"Oh, you're saying please now, are you?"

Jojen whimpered. His arm moved faster.

"It's a funny thought because, in my daydreams, I'm usually the one pleading." Bran allowed himself to grin triumphantly. He had Jojen- confident, composed Jojen, once again totally at his mercy. "I imagine you spreading my legs, getting your fingers inside me, rubbing that spot that makes me scream-"

"Well it's not my fault you're always so damn loud," Jojen breathed.

Bran rolled his eyes, "Quit wanking and get over here."

"As my prince commands." Next thing Bran could register, he had a lapful of Jojen and his belt was being untied. Breathing hard, he looked into Jojen's big, dark eyes. He didn't even realize just how worked up he was until Jojen grabbed at his erection, bringing it out into the air as Bran groaned.

"Tell me more, my prince," Jojen whispered, straddling Bran's hips and sliding their cocks together, "I believe you weren't quite finished."

"W-Where was I?"

"Something about getting my fingers up in you?"

"Yes, thank you-" he swallowed hard, "I want you to touch me until I'm- oh! until I'm begging for it, and that's when you- _ahhh_ -" Jojen rolled his hips down hard against Bran, purposely making it harder to talk. Or rather, making it harder to whisper. That's right, they should remember to whisper, dammit.

"I've pictured you holding me down by the back of my neck," Bran continued, in a passable low whisper this time, "I want you to work yourself inside me slow and gen- _gentle_ " he hissed as Jojen slowed the pace, teasing Bran.

"Like this?"

" _Yes._ "

Their movements, previously spastic and needy, became achingly sensual as Bran's hands grasped Jojen's bony hips, rocking him back and forth. It was puzzling how after all the sinful acts they'd committed together, it was this that made Bran feel dirtiest.

Perhaps it was the way Jojen stared down at him with his eyes half lidded, his rosy mouth hanging open on a silent moan, their cocks getting progressively wetter as they moved together, the way Jojen arched his spine and circled his hips like a shameless harlot, practically carving himself into Bran- " _Oh, Jojen!_ " Bran groaned. Thirty feet to the right, Meera shifted suddenly.

Both boys froze. Quick and quiet as a shadow, Jojen lowered his chest on top of Bran. Hopefully, if Meera were to glance over, she wouldn't see too much. Unfortunately for Bran, this meant that his very sensitive cock was now pressing right against Jojen's stomach. Not good at all.

Meera mumbled something uninteligable, flopped over on her back, and resumed sleeping. Both boys sighed with relief.

"You're going to have to be quieter, my prince!" Jojen whispered, hesitantly taking up his former position in Bran's lap.

"I want you to take me hard," Bran panted, his voice thin, "I want you to... want you to make me scream, I don't ca- _care_ who hears us- _ohh!_ " Jojen was beyond careful rocking at this point, he had been reduced to desperate thrusts against Bran's equally hard cock, they were both _so close_ -

"Want you to fuck me until I can't even see, Jojen, oh seven hells, I love you-" The older boy could sense that Bran was right there with him, so ready to come. He pressed a hand over the younger boy's mouth and gave one last hard thrust, watching Bran squeeze his eyes shut as he came too, both of them making a mess on Bran's stomach.

Bran laughed weakly, "Remind me again, why haven't we done that before?"

Jojen collapsed on top of Bran. He nestled his head into the curve of Bran's shoulder, nosing at his neck. "Did you mean that?" he asked softly, "What you said a moment ago?"

"When I said what?" Bran was aware that he had a habit of babbling when Jojen made him come, in truth, he might've said absolutely anything.

"That you loved me?"

Bran's heart thumped. "Oh. I thought you knew."

Jojen swallowed hard. He blinked slowly. "I didn't."

"To me it seems like you know everything." Even in the weak light of the moon, the honey of Jojen's hair seemed to glow. _Seven hells, how is he real?_ Bran thought. "I love you, Jojen, think I always have." He twirled a lock of grimy blonde hair between his fingers. "You don't understand how much it hurt before, when I thought it was wrong, when I thought I was alone."

Jojen sat up. "As long as I'm living, my prince, you're never alone."

"You're beautiful," Bran blurted.

Jojen blushed hard. A pitiful noise broke free from his chest and he hid his face in his hand.

"Gods, Lord Reed, don't tell me you're embarrassed!"

"Oh, shut up."

Notes:

um yeah i honestly have no idea whether anyone's liking this trash, but 276 of you nerds have read it, so the laws of probability suggest that at least one of you has to be enjoying it on some level. (Whoever you are, I promise I'll finish this for you.)

Chapter 6: chapter 6

Notes:

warnings: inconsistency with past and present tense (my bad), excessive uses of italics, sentences that run on for days.

Also, I forgot to mention this earlier, but the characters have been aged up. Bran is 15 and Jojen is 17. (i am not writing about 2 fetuses fucking. I have standards, goddammit.)

oh and my tumblr is lady-reed if anyone wants to chat or send in some prompts

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Maybe we shouldn't stay here."

Meera looked up from her work. "You'd rather be out there?"

"There are a lot of stories about this place," Bran replied as he ran his hand over a puddle of something frozen, something looked suspiciously like blood. "Horrible stories."

Jojen piped up from his perch by the fire pit. "I always quite liked the horrible stories."

"So did I. Once."

"Have you ever heard about the rat cook?" he suggested as Jojen made his way over.

"No," Meera laughed. "Who's he?"

"Just a cook in the night's watch." Bran looked into the fire while he tried to remember the rest of the story. It had been one of his favorites, something Old Nan used to tell him and his sisters around the fire during stormy nights, not unlike this one. He remembered how Sansa used to cry with fear, and Arya would take to pinching Sansa's ankles to give her a fright. That was, until Sansa finally left the room hollering for mother, and then Arya wouldn't be allowed any dessert for the following week.

"He was angry at the king for... something, I don't remember. When the king was visiting the Nightfort, the cook killed the king's son, and cooked him into a big pie with onions, carrots, mushrooms, and bacon." Meera smiled softly and went back to her work, however Jojen seemed to be amused, so Bran continued.

"He served the pie to the king." Across the fire, Meera's knife paused midair. "He liked the taste of his son so much, he asked for a second slice. The gods turned the cook into a giant white rat, who could only eat his own young." The flickering light of the fire illuminated Jojen's wicked smirk. "He's been roaming the Nightfort ever since, devouring his own babies. But no matter what he does, he's always hungry."

Meera giggled. "If the gods turned every killer into a giant, white rat-"

"It wasn't for murder the gods cursed the rat cook, or for serving the king's son in a pie. He killed a guest beneath his roof." Hodor looked around the room nervously. "That's something the gods can't forgive."

"So... what you're saying is, the gods will punish you for killing a guest, but they can overlook forced cannibalism?" Jojen asked.

Bran shrugged. "I didn't write the story, that's just what Old Nan used to tell me."

"Hodor." Said Hodor.

"It's alright, Hodor," Meera said with a smile, "It's only a scary story. If there really was a giant white rat living here, we would have seen its footprints by now, or we would have heard it squeaking."

"...Hodor."

"And besides, if a giant white rat does come for us, I'll cut its throat quicker than you can say 'Oh gods, that wasn't a giant rat at all, that was only my baby brother and the prince of Winterfell when they think we can't hear them.'"

"Meera!"

"You know, on second thought, that's a lot to say. Doesn't make me sound like a particularly good fighter now, does it?"

Jojen threw a pebble at her.

When Bran woke, his back was cold. The furs behind him were vacant and cold, which was strange for the young prince who had grown accustomed to cuddling Jojen while he slept.

"Jojen?" His voice was heavy with sleep.

A slanted beam of moonlight was coming in a small window above, falling silently over the sleeping forms of his companions. Hodor was in the corner, and Meera slept facing the door, but no sign of Jojen. By the gods, what if something had happened to him? Perhaps he'd gone to find the privy and fallen down a hole. Or what if someone had kidnapped him? No, that was silly. Why would a kidnapper only take one of them? Bran gasped to himself. What if that someone was holding Jojen as a hostage?

"Jojen!"

His lover's face, illuminated by a lantern, peered in at him from just outside the doorway. He grinned. Bran sighed with relief.

"What are you doing? Where did you go?"

"I was only exploring the place. I couldn't sleep."

"You should've woken me! I thought you died!"

"Today is not the day I die, Bran, I assure you."

"Will you stop saying that? I don't want to think about you dying!"

"Can you two please shut it? I'm trying to sleep here."

"Sorry, Meera."

"Come with me, my prince. We can look around the Nightfort together, you'll love it."

Bran glared at him. "Fine."

It was impossible to stay angry with Jojen for long, especially when he was willing to carry Bran through narrow corridors and down abandoned stairwells on his back, just the way Jon used to carry Arya. They worked their way through the storage areas, across the frigid gravel of the training yard, and into a vast, decomposing dining hall.

"Seven hells." There had to be at least 200 tables and benches filling the hall, lined up like soldiers in perfect formation. According to Maester Luwin, there had been thousands of men guarding The Wall once. Most impressive however, were the shields.

Hundreds of them, in all different colors, displaying a dazzling variety of sigils, all nailed side by side to the walls. Time had washed away most of their brilliance, but both boys were wonderstruck nonetheless. Bran reveled in the shock of it; at one point in time, a thousand men had lived here, gathering right in this hall to eat and drink and laugh. And now it was just him. Just him and Jojen. The first people to so much as stir the air for centuries.

"Look," Jojen said, as he set both Bran and the lantern down on one of the tabletops, "Look at that one."

Bran followed the path of his finger to one of the shields decorating the wall. It was small, and round, and green, and featured a black crocodile chasing its tail.

"That's yours, isn't it?"

Jojen laughed, "It is. One of my ancestors must have served here long ago, but I haven't the foggiest who it was." The older boy's excitement was contagious, and Bran couldn't help grinning stupidly from Jojen's giddy energy. "Oh! Look there!"

There, on the far wall above the high table, among a patchwork of reds and yellows and blues was a white shield sporting a farmiliar grey wolf.

"Winter is coming."

"You can be damn sure it is." And then they were kissing, with all those ancient shields bearing down on them, right there in the middle of the dining hall. Bran moaned noisily into the kiss, getting a fistful of Jojen's blonde curls. They were by themselves for once, and Bran was going to be as loud as he fucking wanted.

They licked into each other's mouths, hungry and wanting, aching to feel every curve and crevice and commit it to memory. At this point, Jojen had the prince of Winterfell on his back, legs propped up on either side of Jojen's hips.

He pulled back, panting for breath, taking the moment to adore his prince on the table beneath him. A frustrated whine echoed throughout the hall as Bran grabbed at Jojen's face, frantically chasing his lips. Jojen laughed, allowing his eager lover to yank him back down and claim him, though the younger boy quickly broke off with a high whimper when their hips began rocking together.

"Oh gods, _oh, oh, oh,_ " Bran panted, squirming on the table, "Too many clothes, Jojen, come on," he gasped. All of their clothing wound up in a heap off somewhere on the filthy floor, not that either of them cared. Jojen got a knee up on the table, bracing himself, hoisting Bran's legs up and over his shoulders, drawing gasps and mewls from the pair of them as they rutted mindlessly.

" _Jojen,_ " Bran gasped, "Remember... what... we talked about... last time?"

"Yes," Jojen groaned.

"Want it now, let's do it now," Bran was half out of his mind with pleasure, he didn't want Jojen to stop, but when were they going to get such a good opportunity ever again?

"You sure?"

"Gods dammit, _yes,_ " he whined.

Luckily, they'd thought to bring some spare oil for the lantern, which was now being put to good use as Jojen collected a fingerful of it. Bran gazed at him with lazy, wet eyes, watching as the older boy pushed one of his legs up, mouth falling open as Jojen massaged his little rosebud.

"I'm going t-to have to take- nnh! M-more than one, right?"

"Three." Jojen confirmed, "I don't want to hurt you, my prince."

Bran scoffed. "You call me that one more time, and I swear I'll leave and make you finish yourself."

The older boy laughed. "As you wish." There was an audiable thunk of Bran's head hitting the wood accompanied by a long keen as Jojen worked his finger into Bran's tight heat.

"Doing alright, Bran?"

The younger boy groaned in earnest. "Yes, yes, please, I want more." This time, Jojen tucked two fingers past Bran's opening. Both digits had been generously slicked up, yet Bran still gasped and struggled as he was stretched wider. Jojen did his best to make it feel good, knowing precisely how to stroke and twist his fingers in order to drive his lover absolutely wild.

" _OH!_ " Bran squealed. Jojen had taken to assaulting his sweet spot, making Bran writhe and cry out. "Please, no, not there, fuck, I can't hold it- ohhh god! Oh- you're about to make me- Nnh!" Bran spasmed wildly- the older boy had a fist around his straining erection, pinching the base to stave off what would have been a rather rapid release. Jojen ceased the movements of his hand, giving his hysterical lover a moment to calm down.

"Don't... do that..." Bran breathed, "It's too... much."

"I'm sorry, I was only trying to make it feel better for you."

"Feels just fine, I can take it."

"Are you ready for three?"

"Yes, I think so."

Bran licked his lips and focused. The third finger burned if he was going to be honest, but it faded away soon enough, and he moaned lowly at the sensation of Jojen gently fucking him on his fingertips. He was being spread open, deep and wet; nevermind, _this_ was the dirtiest Bran had ever felt.

"You're going so well, Bran," Jojen praised him, "You're so good, I can't wait to get inside you, you're so beautiful."

"Then by all means, g-get up here and f-fuck me 'fore I spend myself."

Something resembling a growl left Jojen's throat, and Bran watched with vulgar appreciation as Jojen rubbed himself, slicking up his length.

"Are you sure?" he asked one final time, with the tip of his cock lightly kissing Bran's opening.

"Yes! I've been thinking about this for weeks, just take your stupid prick and stuff it up my arse or so help me!"

"How romantic."

"Oh, shut up."

It took several tries at first; Bran's limp legs kept sliding off their position over Jojen's hips, causing the tip of his cock to slide back out while they reajusted. When Bran was approximately four seconds away from completely losing his patience, Jojen decided to set one of Bran's legs over his shoulder and leave the other to fall forwards.

" _Finally!_ " he hissed as Jojen managed to press in more than an inch past his rim. Bran groaned, his eyelids fluttering closed as he focused. At the time he had pleasured Jojen with his mouth, the older boy hadn't seemed so big, but now Bran felt oddly full, felt as if he were being split right open, oh, the pain was dazzling. Jojen let out a long wavering moan.

Bran's eyes flicked open to find his lover shuddering helplessly, teeth sunk into his lower lip, clawing gashes in the wood of the table, desperately trying not to move. "Oh god, Bran, oh god," Jojen whined, hips bucking slightly. Bran yelped.

"Can't... help it... I'm sorry."

"Ah! It's alright, just... slower please."

"Yes, s-slower, of course, we c-can do that." he fixed both hands on Bran's pale, skinny hipbones, and pulled all the way out this time, pushing back in, deep and hard, and Bran gasped at how good it suddenly felt, the way Jojen's cock dragged against his delicate insides.

"Hurts?"

"No! Keep going, I liked that." He began to whimper and croon as Jojen started a rythum, pushing and pulling, slow and steady.

"Do you have any _idea_ how good you feel?" Jojen pratically purred.

"Tell me."

"You're so tight, Bran, so soft, you feel like _heaven-_ " he broke off to growl sharply, shoving all the way in and working his hips in short little circles that had Bran panting and sweating despite the cold.

"You're amazing, _oh, darling,_ I love you so much it _hurts._ " At that moment, his cock drove right against Bran's sweet spot, rubbing it so hard and so good, Bran lost it right there, tossing his head against the table and wailing pathetically.

"Right there? Is that it?"

" _Yes!_ " He moaned wildly, unable to see straight, yet still able to pull Jojen down and sink his teeth into the other boy's neck. This only made Jojen fuck him faster, which made Bran scream louder, which made Jojen attempt to shut him up with a rough kiss.

The kiss was unsuccessful in getting Bran to shut up, however it was successful in bringing on a blinding orgasm. Bran felt as if some godly diety had carelessly tossed him through the clouds, feeling so good he could die happy right there, and oh, Jojen had definitely ruined him for future lovers, there was no one else in the world able make him feel like this again.

The black spots cleared from his eyes, just in time to witness Jojen coming with a harsh cry. Bran's chest was covered in his own sticky mess, but Jojen hardly seemed to notice as his body gave out, and he landed right on top of Bran.

"Well, _fuck._ "

"Rude."

"It was a compliment!"

"Oh, shut up."

"You shut up."

Notes:

PSA: Please do not attempt sex on 1000 year old picnic tables. You will get splinters. And possibly tetanus.

also, am i the only one that's pissed off about how no one knows what the motto of House Reed is? Like? We should have been told by now?

(Thanks for reading! You people have been so supportive I really appreciate it!)


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